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The Adventures of Ersatz Sobekneferu/Transcript
Angelo: This looks wrong. We should have made a left at that last junction. Kezzy: Says the guy who got us completely lost the last time he navigated. Angelo: I'm just saying. Kezzy: Having a penis doesn't grant you an innate sense of direction. My girl parts say that we are almost there. Ta-da. Angelo: It's locked. Kezzy: What the hell? Angelo: Hey! Hey! What the hell was that? Should I go after him? Kezzy: Pretty sure we don't want to catch up to him. Look. Morland Holmes: Sherlock. Good to see you. Sherlock Holmes: Come in. Morland: Apologies for the lateness of the hour. As I said when you called, I felt compelled to see my only remaining son as soon as possible. We have much to discuss. Morland: This tortoise appears to be quite young. Couldn't be any more than, what, four? Sherlock: He's seven, the best we can tell. Morland: Either way, he'll outlive you and Joan by several decades. Have arrangements been made? Sherlock: Yes, my former apprentice Kitty is going to take him when the time comes. Her son will inherit him after that, and so forth. Morland: Well, it's wise to prepare for the worst. Although I'll allow that some preparations are unreliable. My will states that Mycroft should deliver my eulogy. Now it seems that he's been dead for the better part of a year and buried in some distant land. I always thought he would outlive us both. The fact he has preceded both you and I to the grave despite our more dangerous paths, uh, speaks to the inherent injustice of the universe. Sherlock: Or its love of irony. Speaking of danger, how goes your secret agenda? Morland: Well, for the last two years, I have made steady progress in dismantling Moriarty's network. Sherlock: The disappearance of the solitary cyclist? The incident at the priory school? Morland: Among others. Sadly, I have been unable to foil all of the network's machinations. I also had to drain some of the family finances to pay dividends to some of Moriarty's shareholders so they won't think that their enterprise is unraveling. There'll still be a sizeable sum when I'm done. Which brings us back to the matter at hand. I need to change my will. Mycroft was the sole heir. New arrangements are required. Sherlock: Uh, this colleague of mine, a body's been found. Morland: Well, I'll go and we'll have plenty of time to talk. I'm going to be in New York for at least a week. Well, if you need anything I'll be in touch. Sherlock: Look, you should know I discovered Mycroft was dead because I was seeking him out to heal our rift. Now I won't have the chance. But it made me realize that grudges are pointless and that people who hold them are petty and small-minded. I am neither of those things. Morland: We'll talk soon son. Detective Bell: The three hipsters who found this place were doing something they call "urban spelunking." Sherlock: Otherwise known as roof-and-tunnel hacking. The exploration of man-made structures, typically abandoned ruins. Bell: They thought no one had been in this fallout shelter for decades. Instead, they found all this. The guy they saw run out of here was wearing some sort of respirator, so they couldn't see his face. He got away clean. Victim is a Jane Doe. No I.D. She's been dead a few days. I'm assuming the cause of death was one of these wounds, but we won't know for sure until the M.E. weighs in. Sherlock: So, the man who fled was removing her internal organs through this cut on her side? Bell: Yeah, intestines, stomach and liver are in these clay jars. Now, when the spelunkers broke in, he was in the middle of pulling out her lungs, probably to go in this last jar. Obviously, the guy's a sicko. We're thinking serial. Sherlock: Well, that is an understandable, although mistaken, conclusion. These mutilations were not performed to satisfy some dark impulses. There is a more cogent scheme at work. Note this tool. Now, this is designed to remove a cadaver's brain through her nose. Piece by piece. Then there are these items. There's honey. There's a particularly resinous Levantine wine. There is balsam, cedar oil. These are the ingredients in a millennia-old recipe intended to transform this woman. Given the level of craftsmanship, I'd say our masked man was looking to turn her into a copy of a priceless antiquity. In other words, a forgery. Bell: What the hell kind of forgery can you make out of a person? Sherlock: To the best of my knowledge, only one. An Egyptian mummy. Merrick Hausmann: To be honest, when I first heard your theory, I was skeptical. Forging a mummy is ambitious. Sherlock: And yet it has been done. Most recently at a museum in Pakistan, where they paid over $10 million for one which turned out to be a modern fake. The, uh, so-called Persian Princess. Hausmann: I said ambitious, not impossible. Watson: Sorry I'm late. Traffic was bad, but I was able to catch up. Captain Gregson: Professor Hausmann, this is Joan Watson. Hausmann: Pleasure. Sherlock: The professor is one of the foremost experts on Egyptian antiquities in North America. He authenticates artifacts for most of the major museums on the East Coast. Watson: Well, it's nice to meet another Irregular. Sherlock: Uh, actually, he's not one of my consultants. He's uh, the Captain's. Gregson: He helped me out a few times in the Robbery Squad. Antiquities theft, smuggling, that sort of thing. Hausmann: Now that I've seen the evidence, not only do I agree with your theory, I think I can tell you exactly whose mummy this was supposed to be. You said your technicians found this amulet under the linens at the crime scene. Note the cartouche. This is a proper name. Sherlock: Sobekneferu. Hausmann: You read hieroglyphics? Gregson: He reads all sorts of things. So, who's this Sobekneferu? Hausmann: A historical rarity. A female pharaoh. She died under mysterious circumstances when she was in her late 20s. Over 3,000 years ago. Sherlock: Her mummy was never found. It would be worth, $100 million? To the right museum or private collector. Hausmann: The thing is, you said this was a homicide investigation. I'm not sure that's right. Gregson: We have a dead body. We have a lot of wounds. Hausmann: All of which could have been inflicted postmortem. The other case you mentioned, the Persian Princess, do you recall how the forgers procured her body? Sherlock: Stole it from a hospital, by all accounts. She likely died in a traffic accident. Hausmann: Exactly. Your forger may have stolen this corpse as well. Or bought it from an unscrupulous funeral parlor. In other words, while this may indeed be a forgery, it may not be a murder. Sherlock: It most assuredly was a bloody murder. Watson: The M.E. doesn't even have a report yet. Sherlock: Don't need one. In order to duplicate Sobekneferu, the forger would need a fresh kill, slain in a historically accurate way. I submit the Jane Doe was killed with one of these. That's a khopesh. It's the preferred weapon of the ancient Egyptians. Watson: So, if I manage to adopt a baby, you know the box of swords has to go, right? Sherlock: Note the shape of the blade. Looks consistent with the wound on the victim's leg. Watson: Mmm. Sherlock: She was killed by her nephew, by the way. Watson: Police haven't even identified her yet. Sherlock: Not Jane Doe. Sobekneferu. She was almost certainly done in by her brother's son, Sobekhotep, and/or his allies. He succeeded her to the throne, and records written during his dynasty studiously avoid any mention of how she died. That's a sure sign that his regime was involved. Only fair, I suppose, since she likely murdered his father to seize power in the first place. Anyway... Watson: Speaking of fathers, how's yours? Sherlock: Good. Watson: That's it? Just good? Sherlock: Mycroft's death has changed things for the both of us. While our, uh, hatchets have not yet been buried, the holes are being dug. Watson: Hmm, that's great. I'm happy for you. Sherlock: How are you holding up? Watson: Me? Sherlock: Well, you and Mycroft were close for a time. Watson: Well, I'm definitely grieving. But when Mycroft went into hiding, I knew that he'd never be a part of my life again, so I guess, uh, I already came to terms with losing him. If that makes any sense. So, where is Mycroft's body now? Was he buried? Sherlock: Uh, yes, in what uh, what turned out to be his last assumed name, in a cemetery, uh, just outside Christchurch, New Zealand. Watson: Well, have you and your father talked about maybe moving him closer to home? Sherlock: Despite what the ancient Egyptians believe, Mycroft's body will not provide a special conduit to him in the afterlife. Watson: Well, I just thought, if one of you wanted to visit him without getting on a plane for 20 hours... Sherlock: I'll mention it to my father. That's not bad. Bit jagged, but this particular khopesh hasn't been sharpened in some time. I expect the one used to kill Jane Doe was brand-new and razor sharp. Watson: Wouldn't he use an antique for authenticity's sake? Sherlock: For authenticity's sake, yes, he would use a bronze khopesh, but bronze becomes brittle over time, so a suitably old one would not be able to make a cut like this. I think the forger and the killer are two different people. As I've just demonstrated, making a cut deep enough to sever the femoral artery requires skill and strength. But the postmortem incisions on the victim were more tentative. They were much more sawing than slicing. Watson: Well, it takes a strong and steady hand to make a clean incision even with a sharp scalpel, so if the postmortem cuts were uneven... Sherlock: We're looking at the work of two individuals. One strong, one less so. While we might not as of yet have a way to find the forger, I think we might have a way to find the swordsman. Blaine Gerry: Ripsote. Parry and riposte. All right, guys. Bell: You and your friends sure seem to know your way around ancient weapons. Hakeem: It's a hobby. Reconstructing old fighting techniques. I mean, different weapons lend themselves to different techniques. Only way to figure them out is to use them. Fight with them. Bell: Last night, a woman's body was found. We haven't been able to identify her yet. But our consultant thinks she was killed with a reproduction of a bronze sword called a khopesh. The killer seemed to know what he was doing. Hakeem: Well, lots of people play around with this stuff. I've got hundreds of students. Bell: Actually, we don't think the person who did it was a student. A bronze khopesh is a pretty specialized item. There's only a few people who make them. So we made some calls. Turns out a khopesh was shipped to this address just last week. Paid for on your company account. Hakeem: I never ordered a khopesh. I don't remember seeing one around the gym. But to answer the question I think you're asking, I didn't kill anyone. Bell: Truth is, based on the angle of the fatal blow, you're probably too tall to be the killer. Your instructor, on the other hand he's about the right height, and he's been listening to every word we've said. Sort of like his life depended on it. Don't! Whoa, whoa. Have you seen Raiders of the Lost Ark? Doesn't go well for the guy with the sword. Trust me. Geary: I want to cut a deal. Watson: That was fast. Geary: That's how it works, right? When you kill someone for money? You roll on whoever hired you, and the police take it easy on you. Gregson: If you tell us everything you know, we'll definitely put in a good word with the district attorney. Geary: Okay, so yeah, I did it. I killed that girl with the khopesh. Just like the others. Bell: Others? Geary: I don't know the real name of the guy who hired me. Just, like, his code name. But I've killed three different people for him over the past couple years. Bell: We're gonna want the names of the other victims, not to mention your friend's code name. Geary: It's The Theban. Gregson: The Theban? Geary: All I know is he's this master forger. Does all kinds of historic stuff, including mummies. Bell: And you provide the bodies he uses to make the mummies? Geary: You should know, I only did it because I have gambling debts. My bookies were gonna kill me, so that's extenuating circumstances or whatever, right? It's practically self-defense. Gregson: Uh, let's keep talking about The Theban. Can you give us a description? Geary: Sorry. We never met in person. We used Zyngychat. It's one of those texting apps that deletes the messages as soon as you read 'em. Sherlock: Perfect for irresponsible teenagers and hired killers. Geary: There was something different about this last job. The other two times, he gave me a detailed description of what he wanted, how old the target should be, male or female. He wanted them short, no pacemakers or artificial hips, Middle-Eastern, preferably Egyptian. Bell: To match the mummy he was making. Geary: I'd look for someone who fit the bill and killed them the way The Theban wanted. This time, he already picked out his victim. It was this girl named Mischa Farrell. Graphic designer, late 20s, lived in Kip's Bay. Anyway, I caught her on the way home from a club the other night. Cut her right here. Tucked her body away and told The Theban where to pick her up. So, we got a deal? Do I need to sign something? Show it to a lawyer? Hey, I should probably have a lawyer, right? Bell: Never had a suspect who wanted to cooperate so badly and knew so little. Gregson: Well, didn't give us much about The Theban, that's for sure. Sherlock: Not much, but perhaps enough. Mischa Farrell broke The Theban's pattern in more ways than one. Just look. Bell: Doesn't exactly look Egyptian. Sherlock: She might have some Middle-Eastern heritage, but at least some of her ancestors hailed from less sunny climes. Also, she was five-foot-six. That's a good deal taller than your average ancient Egyptian woman. Watson: But The Theban specifically ordered Blaine to kill her. Why do that if she didn't fit his requirements? Sherlock: Well, what if her death was more than just a step in creating an ersatz mummy? What if it was a goal in and of itself? Gregson: You're thinking, even though Blaine in there doesn't know it, Mischa Farrell's murder was a hit. Bell: Figure out who wanted her dead, and we may have our mummy maker. Watson: Those are new. Are you reopening the investigation into the death of Sobekneferu? Sherlock: No, this is actually everything we know about Mischa Farrell. Since we weren't making any progress last night reviewing the details of her life in English, I thought I would translate the data into hieroglyphics. See if it opened up a new line of thought. To review, Mischa Farrell was a 29-year-old freelance book designer who did covers and layouts for fine-art books, textbooks and auction catalogs. Watson: Hmm. No apparent issues with drugs or alcohol. Single. No evidence of domestic abuse. No priors, which is why her prints weren't in any of the databases. Sherlock: And while her profession does connect her to the art world, there seems to be no reason on earth why anyone would want to kill her, so we must be missing something. Watson: Uh, are these her bank statements? Sherlock: Yes. Marcus sent them over a few moments ago. That was my next project. Watson: Looks like she hired a lawyer a little over a year ago. And then about five months later, she received a check for $75,000 from the same law firm. Maybe it was a settlement. Sherlock: Certainly merits a closer look. Let me know if you find anything. Watson: Where are you going? Sherlock: My father wants me to attend a meeting with him and his attorneys. I leave this in your capable hands. Armand Venetto: Yes, that $75,000 came from me, and yes, it was a settlement. But I never would have hurt Mischa. I cared about her. Watson: More like you relentlessly sexually harassed her when she worked with you. Bell: We've seen the lawsuit, Mr. Venetto. We know that on multiple occasions you tried to pressure her into sleeping with you. Maybe you resented having to pay her out. Maybe you just didn't like being rejected. Either way, you decided she had to go. Venetto: Uh, I was horrible to Mischa, and to other women, too, but I had no reason to kill her. If anything, I was grateful to her. Her lawsuit made me take a hard look at myself, and I didn't like what I saw. That's why I settled. Not just with her, but with the other women I'd harassed. Even the ones who hadn't sued me. If you'd like, I'll e-mail my attorneys right now, ask them to send you all of their records. Bell: My e-mail address is at the bottom. Venetto: Try to understand, I've had extensive counseling over the past year. I've changed how I conduct my business completely. You know Mischa was freelancing for me again, right? Watson: Well, we saw a few checks. We thought they might have been more payoffs. Venetto: She designed my last three auction catalogs. Uh, ah, here. See for yourself. Since she's been back, everything's been strictly professional between us. Ask anyone. Bell: Does the name "The Theban" mean anything to you? Venetto: No. Should it? Bell: That's the person we think hired Mischa's killer. Watson: Can you think of anyone else who might have wanted to hurt Mischa? Venetto: You talked to Ricky? Watson: Who? Venetto: Mischa's ex. From what she told people around the office, they had an ugly breakup. Something about Ricky owing her money. Ricky: I admit I lashed out at Mischa after she dumped me. She called our relationship "a failed experiment." So I said some stupid things, but I never wanted her dead. Truth is I don't think I ever stopped loving her. Watson: Is that why you called her the day she disappeared? Bell: Ricky, we got Mischa's phone records. Ricky: Mischa is the one who reached out to me. Okay? Weeks ago. There was this book she was working on. She wanted me to consult on it. She said she would forget all about the 20 grand. I said yes. Bell: Must have needed your help pretty badly to forgive a debt that big. Ricky: She needed someone who really knew brush strokes. There was a trick I used to do when we were in grad school. In art classes, I could tell who painted what by the brush strokes. That's what she wanted me to do for the book. Watson: Identify painters by their brush strokes? Ricky: One painter, actually. The book is something she was writing herself. Nonfiction. An expose on this forger. Mischa called him "van Faux." Bell: Van Faux. Ricky: According to her, he is the world's greatest living forger. He imitates the old masters, Rubens, Rembrandt, the Brueghels. Mischa claimed that van Faux's fakes are pretty much a part of every major collection of Dutch paintings, and no one knows it. She was trying to identify every one. That's where I came in. I can spot his fakes sometimes by the brush stokes. Thing is Mischa didn't just want to identify van Faux's work. She wanted to find out his real name. Expose him to the world. If Mischa found out who van Faux really is... Bell: He might have killed her to protect his secrets. Sherlock: You're upset. Morland: I'm disappointed. I think you're making a mistake passing up your inheritance. Sherlock: The truth is I would much rather the proceeds go to charity. I certainly don't need the money. All I require is... Morland: "A loaf of bread and a clean collar." As you've said many times before. Still I'm grateful that you took the time to join me today. My inevitable passing is hardly my favorite subject, but I'm glad your wishes will be met. Well, I'm sure you need to get back to your work. So thank you for taking the time. Sherlock: I'm just gonna wait till your car gets here, if it's all the same to you. Morland: Oh. Yeah, of course. Yes. Sherlock: I assume from your texts these are the works of the elusive van Faux. Watson: The ones that Mischa's ex knew about, anyway. I can see why Mischa was fascinated by him. He's really good. He doesn't just copy existing paintings. He paints brand-new ones in the style of different Dutch old masters, and then passes them off as lost masterpieces. Sherlock: A not uncommon approach for forgers. It's technically demanding, but makes spotting a forgery more difficult. Watson: So, how'd it go with your father? Sherlock: Aside from a slight disagreement regarding his estate, we had a not unpleasant morning. Right up until the moment I realized he was being stalked. Watson: What do you mean? Sherlock: When we left the meeting, I saw a man lingering nearby, studying my father intently. I believe he intended him ill. Watson: Did you tell your father? Sherlock: Didn't want to risk tipping my hand. Finding and identifying this man will require a detective, and while my father has a virtual Death Star at his disposal, I have little faith in the investigative arm of his group. So I trust you could do without me for a stretch. Watson: Sure. Sherlock: Gonna start an art project of my own. Watson: Nice use of shading. Have you considered a career in art forgery? Sherlock: This is merely a tool, a visual aid I plan to forward to my contacts. How goes your investigation? Watson: I've been looking into the provenances of the paintings that Mischa thought were forgeries by van Faux. Most of them have histories that allegedly date back to the Second World War, and then nothing. Sherlock: The histories of many European works of art were lost or destroyed during the war. Van Faux is no doubt aware of this and using it to his advantage. Watson: I thought the same thing, so instead of looking at the paintings to try and find him, I started looking into the materials he would use to forge them. Sherlock: Period-accurate paints, varnishes, brushes? Watson: Unfortunately, I struck out there, too. I checked with all the companies that would make those materials, but none of them points to van Faux. There's no regular buyers of the colors used by Rembrandt or Rubens, and no special requests that would match a Vermeer or Brueghel. Sherlock: What about canvases? Watson: There are exactly five places that make the reproductions of the linen canvases used during the 17th century, but none of them seem to have any connection to van Faux. Sherlock: Well, they wouldn't. Not if the canvases he's using are actually from the 17th century. Watson: So your theory is that van Faux has a time machine? Sherlock: The frames around these paintings appear to be quite old. Watson: Yeah, I noticed that, too. I just assumed he aged them. Sherlock: Well, he could have. But why go to all the trouble? Why age new canvases and frames when you could just buy old ones? Watson: What, you can buy frames and blank canvases from the 17th century? Sherlock: No, but you can buy lesser-known 17th century paintings for a few thousand dollars, frames and canvases included. Watson: So you think he buys old paintings, and then strips them or paints over them? Sherlock: If anything, it would add to the authenticity of van Faux's work. Old masters often reused frames and canvases. So the question then becomes, who has been buying up all the least desirable Dutch paintings from the 1600s? Jasper Wells: Class doesn't start for another hour. Gregson: We're not here for a class, Mr. Wells. We're here to talk to you about some paintings you recently bought that we think you were gonna turn into forgeries. I'm Captain Gregson with the NYPD. This is Detectives Bell, Lewis and Orosco. Wells: Would it help if I told you I have no idea what you're talking about? Bell: Not really. We have a search warrant for this studio and your residence. If you're working on any forged paintings at the moment, pretty sure we're gonna find them. Wells: Mischa told you about me, didn't she? Gregson: You admit to knowing Mischa Farrell? Wells: I have a feeling there's no point in denying it. Gregson: She didn't tell us anything. The work she was doing did help us find you, which means you had her killed for nothing. Wells: What? What are you talking about? Mischa's dead? Bell: I'm curious, Mr. Wells. Are paintings the only thing you forge, or do you also like to fake Egyptian antiquities? You admit you knew Mischa Farrell. We think you also knew she was getting closer to proving you were the forger she called van Faux. She'd identified dozens of your fakes. She was a threat to you. Wells: It's true I knew about her research because she told me. She was determined to prove I was the world's greatest living forger, and she wouldn't be dissuaded, no matter how much I denied it. But I would never have harmed her. Quite the contrary, I would have killed anybody who I thought might be a threat to her. Gregson: You admit you knew she was trying to expose you, so why should we believe you'd want to protect her? Wells: Because that's what fathers do. Mischa Farrell was my daughter. Wells: I met Mischa's mother at a Basquiat show in the East Village. Back then, I was an up-and-coming painter on the local scene. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever laid eyes on, and we had a one-night stand. Mischa arrived nine months later. Bell: We pulled Mischa's birth certificate to check your story. You're not on it. Wells: Her mother's decision, which I respected. But I still wanted to do right by Mischa. So, when it became painfully clear that I would never make a living as a legitimate artist, I turned to forgery. I used the profits to pay Mischa's child support. Eventually, her mother trusted me enough to watch her after school and weekends. She practically grew up in my studio. Holmes: And that's how, as an adult, she came to recognize that your forgeries were being passed off as genuine old masters? Wells: As a child, she had seen me paint them, and a few months ago, she confronted me. Watson: She was angry? Wells: Quite the opposite. She was proud of my work. To her, I was every bit as good as the artists I imitated. She wanted me to go public. She thought, if I cooperated with the authorities, I'd be spared a prison sentence. More importantly, I'd finally be acknowledged for my talent. Other admitted forgers have become successful mainstream artists, you see. She wanted me to get the credit she thought I deserved. Bell: But you refused? Wells: Unfortunately, she wasn't the sort to take no for an answer. She set about trying to prove I was van Faux. I did everything I could to discourage her. Bell: So you admit she was a threat and that you tried to shut her down to protect yourself. Wells: I tried to protect her. Few people understand how dangerous the business of art can be. Criminals, oligarchs, despots, terrorists. They all use art to move their dirty money from place to place. Pay each other for guns, drugs, stolen goods. Bell: If Mischa had exposed you, the collectors who own your forgeries would have lost millions. Maybe one of them realized what she was trying to do, had her killed to keep her quiet. Wells: I don't deal directly with any of the monsters who lurk in the art world shadows. But I know many by reputation. Perhaps, if you tell me more about her death, I might be able to shed some light. Bell: Well, she was killed with a weapon called a khopesh. When we found her body, someone was trying to turn it into a replica of an ancient mummy. Sherlock: The person we believe is responsible is a forger known only as The Theban. Wells: I've heard of him. He forges Levantine antiquities. The coffin of Mary Magdalene, the Akhenaten Papyrus, head of the Golden Calf. Those were all him. Watson: Do you know his real name? Wells: No one does. But there is one thing, however, that sets The Theban apart from other forgers. According to rumor, he has a way to fool carbon-14 dating. It's how he makes his work seem suitably ancient. If you can figure out how he does that, it might lead you to him. Sherlock: Rubbish. Watson: There's just no way to fake radio carbon dating. The test measures the age of an object based on the rate of radioactive decay. You can't speed that rate up. If you could, Chernobyl and Fukushima would've been cleaned up over night. Sherlock: That being said, it was clear that Mr. Wells thought what he was saying to be true. So I reached out to some contacts in the art world, and a few of them had heard the same rumors. That The Theban could somehow fool the test. Watson: Which made us wonder, what if the rumors were started by The Theban himself? Sherlock: In other words, what if he was propagating some nonsensical story in order to hide the truth about how he was circumventing authentication? He might not be able to bend the rules of physics, but he could compromise the person who's applying them. Gregson: You think he uses a crooked authenticator? Watson: We looked into the few known forgeries that had been connected to The Theban. In particular the three that Jasper mentioned. Sherlock: The coffin of Mary Magdalene, the Akhenaten Papyrus and the head of the Golden Calf. All three were authenticated by the same person. Your friend, Professor Hausmann. Gregson: You're kidding. Watson: He tried to convince us that Mischa's death wasn't a murder, remember? Just like he would if he were in business with The Theban. Sherlock: Now, if he is on The Theban's payroll, he'd be our best chance at locating him. Gregson: I'll call him right now. Tell him we need him to come in here for another consult. Watson: No need. Marcus is already on it. Bell: We have a problem. Hausmann is at St. Bede's Hospital. Someone shot him. Bell: Detective who caught the case just walked me through her notes. Hausmann was shot while walking his dog in Central Park around 5:00 a.m. No witnesses. Sherlock: Gets worse. He died in surgery. Bell: Gotta figure The Theban was the shooter, right? He was tying up loose ends. Watson: I'm not so sure The Theban did this. They found extensive scarring in Hausmann's lungs. I saw this kind of damage back when I was a surgeon, in a metalworker. There's a couple things that could have caused it. One of them is chronic potassium sulfide inhalation. Sherlock: Potassium sulfide is used to patina bronze, but it can also be used to artificially age metallic objects to make them look ancient. A burial mask of a forged mummy, for example. Watson: Well, the people who found The Theban's workshop said he was wearing a respirator, so maybe he knew about the damage to his lungs and was taking precautions. Hausmann wasn't working for The Theban. He was The Theban. Bell: Say you're right. Who the hell killed him? Watson: Maybe what you said before was right, The Theban was just a middleman. So someone who owns a bunch of Jasper Wells's forgeries hired The Theban to arrange Mischa Farrell's murder, then killed him to make sure he never talked. Sherlock: If that's correct, that would greatly narrow the parameters of our search. We'd be looking for someone who had a good deal to lose if Mischa exposed her father's fakes. Bell: And who had a relationship with The Theban. Sherlock: Speaking of identifying dangerous men, I've had some feedback on my art project. Gotta go. Bell: What's that about? Watson: It's family business. Come on. Wells: This is one of mine. This is real. Watson: Hmm. Keep going. I'll be right back. Watson: Hey. Was CCS able to break into Hausmann's phone? Bell: The phone and more. They got access to his financials, including an offshore account he used for his forgery business. No doubt about it, he was The Theban. Few days before Mischa Farrell was killed, he received 50 grand from someone else's offshore account. Few hours later, he transferred that same amount to Blaine Geary. Watson: So he was just a middleman. Bell: How's it going with Mr. Wells? Find anyone who owns his forgeries and might have a connection to The Theban? Watson: Well, the overlap between collectors of Dutch old masters and collectors of Egyptian antiquities is virtually nil. And there's no indication that the ones who bought fakes painted by Jasper have been trying to move them. So it makes me think we're looking in the wrong place. Bell: What do you mean? Watson: The odds that someone unknowingly bought a fake from one forger and has a relationship with another are slim. Bell: Well, who else would have lost money if Mischa Farrell exposed her dad? Watson: Jasper's been telling me a little about how he does business. He never deals directly with big collectors. Instead, he uses middlemen and cutouts. Bell: You're thinking the killer isn't someone who bought Jasper's fakes, but someone who helped sell them? Watson: Imagine you knowingly sold fakes to criminals. I mean, you'd be pretty nervous, too, if you found out about the book that Mischa was working on. Bell: Yeah, one of your clients reads it, you're the one who could wind up dead. Watson: So you kill Mischa to make sure that never happens. Bell: The kind of person you're talking about would also be more likely to know The Theban. Sounds to me like we should ask Jasper if we could take a look at his contact list. Sherlock: How were you planning to kill my father? Heart attack or something more creative? Vanja Borozan: You're the son. Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock: Fleeing is pointless. The hotel exits have been secured by MI6. They helped me identify you. Your name is Vanja Borozan. You are a high-priced assassin. You're a disciple of Daniel Gottlieb, the killer known as "The Actuary." Borozan: And you just locked yourself in a room with me. Sherlock: Well, as you can see, I've disabled your weapon. And I'm confident I would prevail in a physical confrontation. Borozan: I have other ways of eliminating a threat. Sherlock: Yes, I'm well aware of your particular modus operandi. Like your mentor, you prefer your murders to look like accidents or natural causes. So, as long as I don't let you approach me with a syringe or a banana peel, I should be just fine. Borozan: What do you want? Sherlock: Well, for starters did you kill my brother? Borozan: Mycroft Holmes? There was an open contract out on him four years ago, offered by a French crime syndicate, but no one collected on it. He died in a kitchen fire. Sherlock: My brother died in New Zealand last July. They say it was natural causes. Borozan: Last July, I was in a Chinese hospital recovering from a car crash. Job gone wrong. Couldn't move, let alone work. Sherlock: I'll see if my friends downstairs can verify that. In the meantime, who hired you to kill my father? Borozan: I can't answer that. Sherlock: Oh, you will answer. Either to me or to the servants of the Queen. Borozan: No. No. No one's getting anything else from me. I have family, too. Wells: Rubens, Brueghel the Younger, two van Dycks. They should easily fetch ten million apiece from the right buyer. All I want is five million wired to my bank in Luxembourg. But it has to be today. Venetto: You're not usually in such a rush. Wells: I apologize, but recent events have convinced me it's time to retire. Think of this as a going-out-of-business sale. So, are you interested? Venetto: Yes. Venetto: Oh-six. Right. I need four paintings picked up at the address I gave you. No billing on the delivery. I'll pay cash. All right. As soon as possible. Bell: You can cancel that order. Unless, of course, you want to ask your delivery people to bring Mr. Wells's paintings straight to the 11th Precinct. Venetto: What's this? What, what's going on? Bell: What's going on, Mr. Venetto, is you're about to be arrested. Venetto: For what? Watson: We were listening in on the conversation you had with Jasper. You just agreed to buy four of his fakes. Venetto: There's no crime in purchasing a few oil paintings done in the style of the old Dutch masters. Bell: Actually, there is, once you try to pass them off to collectors as 300-year-old masterpieces. But that's not why we're here. We're here because you solicited the murder of Mischa Farrell. Venetto: Murder? Bell: Hands against the wall. Venetto: Oh. Bell: We got a surveillance warrant for your phone. We know you just transferred $5 million to Mr. Wells from an offshore account based in Lebanon. Watson: More importantly, we were able to match that account to the one that was used to pay Hausmann to arrange Mischa's murder. Venetto: I don't know what you're talking about. Bell: Oh, sorry. You probably know him better as The Theban. See, you don't sell many Egyptian antiquities, but you do sell them. Gotta figure at least a few were forged by him. How else would you have known to ask him for help with your Mischa problem? Watson: Of course, that left you with a Theban problem, but you solved that one on your own. You shot him while he was walking his dog. Venetto: Please, try to understand. Mischa's book would have ruined me. I've sold almost a hundred of her father's paintings over the years, some of them to dangerous people. I never wanted to hurt her. Watson: You're just another fraud. In the end, Mischa exposed you, too. Bell: Armand Venetto, you're under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in the court of law. Morland: You're certain that he was planning to kill me? Sherlock: As certain as I can be. Now, I have not been able to determine who he was working for. I don't know if you were targeted because of your day job as an international consultant or because of your current position at the head of Moriarty's organization. But whoever hired him, they would likely try again. You should be prepared for more attempts on your life. Morland: I'm afraid I was expecting this. There's a certain inevitability to it. One final problem to face. I didn't expect it quite so soon. Sherlock: You know who hired him? Morland: I understand that her FBI handlers lost track of her some time ago. Of course, they're reluctant to discuss details. But I assumed she was regrouping, gathering her forces for the final struggle, but this would seem to indicate that I was wrong. But then I wouldn't be the first Holmes man to underestimate her. She's back, son. And she wants what's hers. Sherlock: Moriarty. Category:Transcripts